


Something Unexpected in Common

by Constant_Variations



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Implied Character Death, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, fear of being outed, i made myself sad so now you sad too, this started with the title of loss jpg lmao, v gay secretive boys who are bad at being a secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constant_Variations/pseuds/Constant_Variations
Summary: Hamilton is acting strangely during a cabinet meeting, to the point where Jefferson becomes concerned. He quickly becomes more preoccupied with the fact that his rival walked in on a very lethal secret.





	Something Unexpected in Common

Thomas Jefferson hated Alexander Hamilton.

Hamilton could counter every argument Jefferson made, point out every flaw in a heartbeat, bedazzle with audience with intellectual jargon while simultaneously smothering them with his voice. Hamilton had such incredible fervor behind every speech that it was impossible to not admire the man, despite how equally obnoxious he could be. Jefferson did not doubt for a second that Hamilton would attempt to strike an argument with God Himself should Hamilton ever get the opportunity.

Yet, leaning on his desk and watching the man of his ire address the cabinet, Jefferson couldn’t help but wonder if the bastard was okay. The idea of the other man’s health never before had crossed his mind until after a rather ingenious rebuttal of one of Hamilton’s proposals, only a halfhearted glare was sent Jefferson’s way, containing none of the heat from previous encounters. Not even the glow from Madison’s small, praising smile distracted him long.

Hamilton’s words, always bursting with energy and passion meant to inspire bold and precise action, were limp, handing themselves to the crowd rather than forcing its way into their ears. His step fell flat and heavy on the floor whereas normally he was quick and light footed, as though he were about to take flight. His eyes were hooded, hidden behind round spectacles that aged Hamilton far beyond his years. As he finished his speech, he simply sank into his chair, weary in a way that was unbecoming of Alexander Hamilton.

President Washington called for a brief recess, allowing the other officials to stretch their legs and review their lengthy notes. Jefferson caught, but could not decipher, the meaningful look between Washington and Hamilton, the latter giving a reluctant nod before being led into the president’s office. Jefferson stared curiously at the door long after it closed, jerking out of his thoughts at a tug on his sleeve.

“Thomas, we should get some fresh air,” Madison said, hand lingering on his arm, warm in a way the summer could never be. “Lord knows how much more Hamilton has prepared for the day.”

“How fresh can it be? It’s hot and humid as hell, we just might melt in our suits.” Seeing the unamused look, Jefferson chuckled. “Okay, okay, that sounds like a good idea. Care to accompany a friend?”

He smiled softly, so softly, at Madison, wishing they were back at Monticello so he could offer his arm as a gentleman would, and his dearest James would give him a fond smirk before taking his arm. Glancing behind his shoulder to confirm the emptiness of the room, Jefferson took the hand from his arm and brought it up to his lips, pressing firmly against the strong, bony knuckles he loved so. He wrapped his other arm around James’s waist, pulling the smaller man closer. James slipped him a tender gaze, glancing almost jealously at his fingers.

A click sounded. He ripped his hand from Jefferson’s grip and stepped away, eyes widening and breath quickening. Jefferson whipped around, preparing for a fight.

Hamilton stood in front of the door to Washington’s office, hand trailing off the doorknob. His face flickered, attempting to appear neutral but unable to contain his displeasure and… longing? No, that couldn’t be right.

“Hamilton,” Jefferson drawls, forcing nonchalance into his stance and voice. “What did our esteemed leader want to talk to you about?”

The silence stretched between the two parties. Jefferson scanned his foe’s face for any sign, good or ill, of Hamilton’s thoughts. Why was he being so quiet? What was he thinking? He wouldn’t use this as an opportunity for blackmail, would he? It’s not like he and Madison were doing anything blatant. Oh, who is he kidding, he might as well have screamed it to a gathered crowd while handing out flyers, why did he allow himself to get swept up in the moment? Now his career, maybe even his life, is forfeit, and he managed to drag his beloved down with him. How would James ever forgive him? How could he forgive himself?

“Hamilton,” Madison starts, inhaling deeply to counter the tears forming in his eyes, “please. I- I know we’re not friends a-and you have every reason t-to report us but-.” He’s cut off by a coughing fit, fumbling with the handkerchief against his shaking hands. Jefferson rubs his back until it passes, leaving his hand where it rests when Madison assures him he’s fine. His next attempt to speak is cut off as Hamilton waves his hand dismissively.

“I won’t report you,” he deadpans.

“What?” Jefferson asks, too shocked to even inflect his voice.

“I won’t report you,” he repeats, slowly with only a slight hint of a condescending tone. He walks past the two dumbfounded men, gathering his papers into a bag.

Madison sags with relief, clutching Jefferson as though he’s the only thing keeping him upright. Jefferson holds him just as tight but keeps his focus on Hamilton’s tense shoulders and rigid stance as he marched towards the exit. Against all common sense, he opens his mouth.

“Why?”

Hamilton’s shoulders hunch around his ears as he freezes. The moment draws out, but Jefferson is determined.

“Why?”

“Thomas, let him be,” Madison pleads gently, panic beginning to return.

“No, I need to know if he’s going to use this against us later,” Jefferson stressed, turning to look him in the eye. “I refuse to live with a wolf at my heels, not when it concerns you.”

A sharp gasp wretches their attention back to Hamilton, cheeks stained red as he struggles to reign in his tears.

“You want to know why?” he hisses, continuing before they respond. “Because that would make me a hypocrite. As nice as it would be to not deal with you, I cannot not be the one to expose such a relationship when I myself have known the inexceedable joy of one. However, I must advise you to be more careful in the future. You can’t expect every person who walks in on your affections to see it as the wondrous thing it is.” Here he pauses and shuts his eyes tight, labored breathing echoing around the room. He opens his eyes, drilling them into the men before him.

“Hold onto each other for as long as you can. Cherish every moment as though it is your last. It’ll be gone long before you’re ready, trust me.” Hamilton turns away and is almost out the door when Jefferson calls his name.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, his voice genuine without its usual boisterous confidence. Hamilton gives a small half smile.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, Jefferson, Madison. We may have something unexpected in common, but I still expect your best for our country.” He almost leaves, then faces them once more. “Also… good luck.”

Minutes pass, the two men simply staring at the space Hamilton vacated, huddled close in their solitary confusion.

“That can’t have just happened, right?” Jefferson asks, incredulous.

“What couldn’t have?” a deep voice inquires from behind. They jump, shifting almost uncomfortably to greet Washington, hesitant to meet his guarded eye.

“Mr. Hamilton leaving work early, sir,” Madison squeaks, phrasing it almost like a question. Washington sighs.

“Yes, I’m afraid today is… a rough day. I gave him the rest of the day off. Looks like you could use today too, Madison. Get some rest now. Can’t afford to have all my cabinet members on death’s door.” He gave a fatherly grin, the frankly adorable tooth gap offsetting the age around his eyes. The two younger men nodded dimly, shuffling out of the room and heading down the opposite hall.

The air outside was oppressive in its heat, but they stayed as close as was socially allowed anyway. Hamilton’s words swirled around them, permeating the air with its weight. Jefferson swore he could taste the melancholy of its hard won truth in the bitterness of Hamilton’s face.

“Who do you think he lost?” Madison pondered aloud, careful in his volume as they approached the common public areas. “Do you think they were found out?” His voice trembled at that.

“Can’t have been,” Jefferson reassured him, cocky persona rebuilding itself under society’s eye even as he kept his tone low. “Unless it was fairly recent, he would have been executed pretty much on the spot. He’s not dead or in life imprisonment, so it’s safe to say he was never caught.” He glanced at Madison, still looking pensive and anxious. “How about we head to Monticello for some tea? Sally should have some fresh bread waiting for us.”

Madison’s small quirk of the lips is all the answer he needs as they swivel in the direction of Jefferson’s home. They speak of nothing with consequence, ever mindful of the echoes still following them, yet content to wait for a secure location and a proper time to address it. It’s not until Mr. Aaron Burr calls out to them that they pause their trek.

“Mr. Burr, what can we do for you?” Madison politely queries. Jefferson’s jaw is set as he glares off into the horizon, fingers rapidly drumming an incoherent pattern on his cane. Burr spares him half a glance before returning to Madison.

“Do either of you know why today’s meeting was cut short? Washington didn’t say much besides the heat.”

“Oh, um,” Madison spluttered, shooting Jefferson a helpless look.

“It’s hot as hell, Burr,” Jefferson snarks. “Do you really want to be locked in that room with Hamilton droning on in this heat?” Burr perked up a bit.

“Speaking of, have you seen Hamilton?”

“He left when Washington announced the meeting was done for the day. Why? Didn’t you two have a falling out or something?” Burr steadied him with an icy stare.

“Hamilton always seemed a little… off around this time of year.” Jefferson blinked.

“Always?” Burr hums an affirmation.

“We were in law school together, even partnered together on several occasions. Around this time of year, he’d become distant and fatigued, sometimes ill enough to be bedridden for days.” His mask cracks ever so slightly, concern furrowing his brow and lacing his tone. “It would be worse after study sessions with some other students. He could hardly stand listening to… oh, who was it?” Burr scratched his head, missing the conspiratorial hunger blossom in the others’ eyes. With a sudden snap of his fingers, he exclaims, “John Lawrence, that was him! Always kept his mouth shut around that one.”

“Well, we’re heading over to my house if you’d like to bless us with your company,” Jefferson offered, mind flicking through various ways to keep the topic on Hamilton without raising too much suspicion. Burr’s neutral mask slid back into place.

“That’s very kind of you, but I should get going. Thank you for your time,” he dips his chin and moves to veer off but pauses. “I understand that neither of you are fond of Alexander, but it would be appreciated if he had it easy this time ‘round. He’s infuriating, but he is a good man who’s been through too much.”

Jefferson solemnly nodded. Burr, appeased, headed back the way he came. Jefferson and Madison resumed their trek to Monticello, heads bloated with the surprising reveals. The silence was thick with thought as they reached their destination, filling the air in the modest vestibule while the two shed footwear and coats.

“Who do you think broke it off, Hamilton or Lawrence?” Jefferson asks, quizzically tapping his finger against his full bottom lip. “Had to have been Lawrence right? Hamilton wouldn’t be so broken up about it otherwise.”

“I can’t imagine what that would feel like,” Madison almost whispers, “loving someone so much only for them to leave in a heartbeat. It must be awful.”

“Hey,” Jefferson calls quietly, gathering James into his arms, securing the smaller man under his chin. “I promise, Jemmy, you’ll never have to worry about that with me.”

James twists in his arms, gently pulling Thomas down by the cravat into a passionate kiss, full of desperation. Breaking away only once air became scarce, the two men cherished the warmth from the other’s body as they breathed, James’s hand around Thomas’s waist, the latter’s arms around his beloved’s shoulders.

After a chaste, loving kiss, James muttered against swollen lips, “I’ll make sure your body remembers that promise.” A gentle bite and tug of his lower lip punctuates his declaration. Heat jolts down Thomas’s spine, bringing a whine to his throat. James slips from his grasp, allowing a hand to trail down his arm until they disconnect. A knowing smirk and he disappears up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

“Sally,” Jefferson calls, already loosening his suddenly bothersome cravat, “be a lamb and refuse anyone who comes to the door. I’ll be busy this afternoon.”

~X~

Hamilton sits in his office, an open letterbox the only item on his often messy desk. The room is brightly lit an orange hue, courtesy of the drawn curtains coupled with the candles scattered around the room. His rear end is numb from sitting on the stiff wooden chair with no reprieve, but the ache is dull enough to ignore. The parchment in his hand is better known than anything else in that house, anything else in the world, save for the one who gave it to him.

The pattern is familiar, shadowed by previous years, previous memories, voices and noises from the past lending themselves to the haze of his mind.

All these years, he’s waited for the pain to fade into a mere throb, to be able to look at these papers with a nostalgia of good times past, to remember what was gone without being consumed by the overwhelming sense of _loss._ All these years, all his achievements, plus a wife and family any man, including himself, would be lucky to have, and yet he still felt a sharp pain every time he found himself thinking of what could, what _should,_ have been, what precious thing he held within his hand and let fall through his fingers like satin ribbon onto a muddy road.

He cradles the papers as though they are of most fragile glass, drinking in their contents with the same attention he gave the first time he read them, despite knowing every curve and curl, every letter in every word, even the slight stains and rips in the edges. He’s been careful in preserving them, not letting a single tear fall onto the parchment and blemishing its worth.

A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he wipes the wet from his eyes, pushing the spectacles onto his forehead. He mouths the final words with bitterness dripping from each soundless motion, fresh tears falling unnoticed under his heavy hand.

Delicately placing the letters back inside their box, Hamilton, once again, finds his eyes roaming the page that shattered his world, the only one not written in beautiful, sprawling penmanship. It rests on top, the last thing he sees before he locks it all away.

Blowing out the candles, he wanders down the hall, footsteps dragging through the sleeping house. He dresses for bed, unaware of his slow, wooden movements and the cotton filling his head. His body slumps into his bed, curling away from Eliza to tease the ledge of the mattress. Spirit stretched thin as the papers he’d left in the other room, Alexander surrenders his body to its demands of rest. His eyes close, and emblazoned on his eyelids are the last words he read earlier that night.

_Your affectionate Laurens_

**Author's Note:**

> Hamilton actually met a dude name John Lawrence after the war and I thought it was a cruel twist of the knife. Especially when you consider that TJeffs and JMads were a rocking political duo and Hams other half died before they could become one.  
> Critiques welcome!


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